Hair of the Wolf
by Samantha V
Summary: Sometimes it's not just humans who overdo it in a bar... Just a bit of fluff for fun.


**Hair Of The Wolf**

**by Samantha V.**

**Summary: **sometimes it's not just humans who overdo it in a bar...

**Disclaimer: **not mine, not now, not ever... sigh...

**A/N: **This is just a bit of fluff that came to me one day. You can set it in pretty much in any season - your choice! It's really pretty tame but I've rated it 'T' because of a bit of a language because, honestly, who says 'ass-hat' in real life?

**Beta: **Lost in a Forest, thanks you so much girl you're awesome!

I hope you enjoy...

Slamming the roadhouse door behind him, cutting off the sounds of loud drunken laughter, Sam tightened his jacket against the cool night air and walked over to where his brother was standing by the glimmering outline of the Impala.

"Dean, man, you ready to..."

Without turning to look, Dean raised his hand for his brother to stop, eyes focussing intently elsewhere. Finally noticing the gun in Dean's hand and the intense 'hunter mode', Sam went instantly on alert.

"What is it?" he whispered, pulling his own gun and moving stealthily forward while scanning the immediate surroundings.

"What type of rounds ya got?"

"This time of the month, silver," Sam replied, looking up at the bright glowing moon.

"Good, because I think we got us a wolf."

Following Dean's line of sight Sam could just see a large, hulking shape standing quietly by the edge of the parking lot. It sat in shadow but he could make out the sheen of heavy fur and the curve of large claws.

It would be just their luck to stumble into a hunt in the middle of nowhere. The 'town' was just a scattering of houses, a church, a few businesses and a few streetlights. The good part of that meant that this time of night the streets were pretty much deserted - so long as no one left the fine drinking establishment behind them.

"You got a shot?" Sam's eyes were good, but Dean had the better angle.

"Not from here. Besides, it wouldn't be a good idea to start shooting here. We'd have the cops on our asses in no time flat. We'll have to trail it for a bit, maybe lead it if we have to."

Sam scowled, Dean's idea of 'leading' something usually involved his big brother being the bait. He was just about to argue when the wolf raised itself to its full height and moved out of the shadows.

It was huge. Easily over seven feet it towered over the cars. And then it was gone.

"What the hell..." that was a new one on Dean.

Abruptly a large, hairy, muscled arm slammed onto the roof of the nearest car and the beast hauled itself up from where it had fallen. Clambering back onto its feet it staggered onto the edge of the roadway into town.

"What's wrong with it?" Sam couldn't quite believe what he had just seen.

"Don't know. Maybe it's already injured?" Dean thought that it was possible that the monster was hurt, maybe by another hunter. In any case they would have to be careful. Motioning Sam forward he moved to track the wobbling creature.

It did not seem to be able to walk in a straight line and moved erratically, lurching from right to left with no set pattern. Finally reaching a weakly glowing streetlight it grasped the post with both paws, nails scraping as it slowly sank to the ground. Apparently not content to sit there, it clambered back up, leaning heavily and swayed like there was a strong breeze.

Sam sorted through all the possibilities of what the heck was going on, he was sure he'd seen behaviour like that before, it looked so familiar... Eyes widening with recognition he looked over at Dean who he saw had come to the same conclusion.

"Damn, I think the thing is drunk!" Sam fought the urge to laugh.

"Stinkin'. It must be one of the assholes from the bar earlier."

"So, what do we do now?"

Having lost its grip on the streetlight once again, the werewolf was slowly crawling on its hands and knees making an odd high-pitched warbling, squeaking noise.

Dean slightly lowered his weapon in disgust "Aw hell, how am I supposed to shoot a giggling fugly?"

"Well, we could just let it go... Let's just follow it."

"And then what?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing, but faced with Sam's shrug and puppy dog eyes, gave in.

"Fine. But I am not letting you take him home."

Slowly easing forward they watched the wolf as it hauled itself up and over the stone wall around a surprisingly large cemetery to thump down on the other side. Staggering to its feet it stumbled amongst the headstones to finally rest against a large stone angel and raised it's head to emit a hoarse, oscillating, non-melodic howl.

Following more closely, as they did not really have to worry about the werewolf being too observant, the boys watched in horror.

"You have got to be kidding me. Please god, don't tell me that I've ever looked like that." Dean was sure the beast was mangling some sort of country tune.

Sam smirked, "Well, I ain't god, but take away the fur, claws and bad breath..."

"Sam!"

"Okay," Sam was willing to be fair, "take away the fur and claws..." He barely felt the breeze before Dean whapped him lightly on the head.

While its vision may have been wavering, and the world doing a slow spin, the werewolf still caught the fast motion out of the corner of its eye. Turning its head vaguely in the right direction and sniffing to identify the smells on the cool night air it detected the warm, spicy scent of... prey.

Gathering itself together, it lurched upright, took a deep breath and charged. Heavy feet pounding the ground, it roared and reached out to grab the two morsels who offered themselves to him so conveniently.

Rushing closer and closer it almost had them when suddenly they weren't there and it found itself hurtling downwards.

"Now that's just pathetic." Dean looked over at the creature as it lay facedown amongst the leafless bushes.

Having seen the thing telegraph its approach for ages before it reached them, it had been child's play for them to simply step aside and let it rush right on past them.

As they watched, the creature hauled itself up, swaying badly, before semi-straightening and charging again.

Dean almost felt bad as they stepped aside again and the beast wound up slamming itself into the same stone angel it had been inadvertently feeling up just shortly before. Sliding slowly down to the ground it lay on its back before making repeated unsuccessful attempts to get to its feet.

With a sigh Dean stepped forward and raised his gun.

"Dean..." Sam couldn't stop himself.

"What? We're supposed to call him a cab and send him home? Sam, he's a monster, okay, perhaps one of the least threatening, saddest excuses for a monster that we've ever come across, but give him a pot of coffee and he'd be good to go."

"I know, but..." Sam could see that the creature had hauled itself up against another tombstone and had started to eat the leaves of a plant that somebody had left there.

"Great, now he's got the munchies!" Dean had no idea how he was going to put this hunt into his journal.

"Well, at least it's not finger food." Sam could not stop the impish grin which rose to his lips. Chuckling he moved himself out of Dean's smacking range.

An odd strangled noise, like a coughing Chihuahua, suddenly sounded from the deeply inebriated werewolf before it fell over and morphed back into a rather large, older biker-type man with tattoos and a ponytail.

Giving each other a 'what the hell' look the brothers cautiously approached the body. Reaching down Sam checked for a pulse and, not surprised, found nothing. The only way a wolf would change back under a full moon was if it was dead.

"He's dead."

"Yeah, I figured, and I think I know why." Dean held a small piece of the plant which was the creature's last meal. "Wolfsbane, pure poison for werewolves."

"Huh," Sam stood up. He so wished all hunts could go so easily. "So, salt and burn?"

"Nah, let's leave this for the local cops. Less trouble for us and they'll put it down to natural causes. We can always come back if his spirit kicks up a fuss. Besides, I'm tired and I really need to get some sleep."

Sam nodded his assent and the brothers turned to leave the cemetery. Boots crunching over dirt and leaves Sam couldn't help but ponder what just happened.

"Dean, so for all this time, Dad got it wrong."

"What?" Dean wasn't sure where the heck this was coming from, really didn't feeling like dealing with it now and was sure Sam was up to something.

"Yeah, Dad didn't have to drag us around all over the place he could have just opened a bar, you know get the werewolves drunk, then take 'em out. It would be easy, have two for one specials every Moonday..."

"Sam..."

"And next door we could have had a flea bag motel..."

"SAM!"

**The End**

I know nothing about Wolfsbane other than it is supposed to be some sort of werewolf repellent. I needed something to kill the wolf, other than Sam and Dean, but couldn't think of any way for there to be silver lying around in a cemetery.

If you like, let me know. Thanks!


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